A Femme Fatale
by Prewritesuccession
Summary: A girl has captured the affections of someone unexpected: Tezuka Kunimutsu. Even though she could twist him around her finger without him saying a thing in discontent, he knows nothing about her: not family, not background, nothing. But Tezuka does know he's racing down a steep mountain and can't stop rolling until hitting a bitter, hard truth called rejection. One-shot.


**All right: this is considerably different than the stuff I usually do. For one thing this is a one-shot. Please review and leave comments! Enjoy and check out my other stuff. Thanks!**

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One of the first signs that the world is ending is that Tezuka Kunimitsu will finally fall in love. Who would suspect that this earth would die at the tender age of just a few billion years?

The usually cool, level-headed boy sat at his desk, accidentally breaking his pencil lead in frustration. Once again, he erased the lovely name from this cursed writing assignment and focused back on his topic of famous literary authors. His usually passive features were creased lightly in concentration as he forced himself to remember what the teacher had said; that this was a pre-midterm and was worth a large grade.

"Study hard," the teacher had warned.

However, _she_ crept back into his mind with her laugh and her smile and he felt the tip of his pencil form her name. And once again the thin lead snapped. The furious sound of erasing filled the neat, usually quiet room.

From downstairs, a concerned mother put down the dish she was washing, a small frown on her usually calm and content face. She wondered what on earth her usually quiescent son could be up to. This strange rubbing sound was the loudest noise ever heard to come from Tezuka Kunimutsu's bedroom.

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People say when fools fall in love, they fall hard and only land when rejection comes and meets them in a loving splat like going down a giant hill with your bicycle straight into a brick wall. The wall hugs you so hard it breaks your bones and you think, _I thought you loved me and now you just cause me pain. _

People also say that the worst things start with a bad analogy.

There's a French term, _femme fatale_, which means "deadly lady." It is a charming female who uses her beauty and charm to twist everyone around her little finger and turn the whole world upside-down, one stone flip at a time.

Tezuka swore this was exactly what she was: a _femme fatale_. She filled his mind with her silky, luscious black hair that was always smooth and always in place. Her mellifluous laughter echoed in his mind. He counted it frightening how much he thought of her. She seemed to suddenly be _everywhere_.

The soft light of his table lamp was the same glowing pale of her flawless skin. The sky outside carried the same heavy brilliance as her intensely passionate eyes. The roses his grandfather lovingly tended outside matched the soft red of her lips. The music box twinkling in his mother's study matched the light, bell-like tones of her gentle and soothing voice.

Tezuka had seen her first at tennis practice. She sat on one of the benches with one friend much less lovely than she. The girl's dark locks were twisted into a simple yet elegant bun, loose strands finding the perfect way to cup her heart-shaped face. Even though she wore a uniform, her personality was still seen in her clothes and appearance. The small twinkle of her laughter made him pause for a second. In his oblivion, Tezuka subconsciously hit a lob and gave Ryoma's easily returnable smash the point.

"You're not focused, captain," the first-year said, eyes full of daring and racket pointed at his chest, not like a threat, but a challenge. Tezuka snapped his focus back into the game, sure not to let Echizen win the game because he knowing the girl could be watching him. Yet in the end, she was gone, leaving the world as dull as it had been before she had sat down.

Yes, Tezuka had ridden his bike down a very long, very lonely mountain, but he never stopped rolling because Tezuka never saw this girl again. There was no acceptation and no rejection. He never hit the wall that would crush his bones. Of course, after the wall comes pain and healing. Yet nothing rose to greet him as he winded his bicycle down a gradually steeper path and he still rides until rejection or acceptation greets him with a splat.

People say _femme fatales _is related to "beauty is in the eye of the beholder," that your charmer is only as charming as you believe they are.

People also say that the worst things start with a bad analogy.

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**Phew. That felt very strange to write; I'm don't usually END stories...:D Hope you liked it, and again, please comment and review!**


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